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I freeze as he scoops e so thatoff the side He wraps his hands around my elbows and stands so close, my knees are forced to part around his waist

He blows a breath out, strokes his warm hands down my shoulders “Jesus, Finley” He leans closer, wraps an ar to” He holdsover ainst his shoulder

“I knoho,” I whisper “Hoie”

It’s a catty thing to say, I know, but I can’t seem to help myself

I feel his diaphraghtly away, so that a cool breeze twists between us When I look up at him, I find his face hard “Have I ever said that’s my name? Homer?”

I look down, and his hand cups the side of roans “You don’t know the half of it

withto outrunthirteen years old”

I blink down at the space between us: a swatch of dirt where an ant hauls a bit of leaf atop its back My eyes ith relief at his desperate tone I’ed one for once

Tell me more Please, Sailor I send a prayer up to that effect, but as I watch his shoes and feel hi Finally he leans in closer, s the nape of my neck

“Don’t ever worry, Finley Not with me”

Soh me, a sort of dark force I’d like to lash out at him, shove hione” But I do none of that I feel like a statue in a snow globe as I hear ht, then”

He lifts round Even nohen I’ near hilance at his face I’ him But when our eyes catch, his blue orbs are remote, as if he’s locked himself away a bit

So sensation Because I want to know—I feel I even need to know—about him I feel like sand at low tide as I walk beside him: thirsty

For his part, his strides are long and slightly brisk His handsome face is perfectly impassive He seems focused on the path ahead, which tilts more vertically as misty rain drifts over us For not the first time in his presence, I don’t feel quite real as I trod near him I need his eyes, his hands on me to be corporeal

Finally, as the path cuts leftward in a zigzag toward the summit, he looks over his shoulder Now his face is clearer…perhaps calheated passed between us We walk on, and I think oddly of the animals in Noah’s Ark Two of each kind…